


If Only You

by wiiimzy



Category: Danny Saucedo, Eric Saade (Musician), One Direction (Band)
Genre: Anal Sex, Angst, Eurovision, M/M, Melodifestivalen, Mpreg, So much angst, Time Travel, Weird, all around weird, i should never have started writing this, oh and the doctor is in it a bit but he's just helping out, yay buttsecks
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-06-27
Updated: 2013-08-18
Packaged: 2017-12-16 09:13:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 22,070
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/860449
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wiiimzy/pseuds/wiiimzy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Danny is a famous Swedish pop-star, his best friend Eric is too. When they accidentally have sex while drunk after a night of celebrating Eric’s win in Melodifestivalen, they both try and forget about it and they pretend it never happened. But when Danny meets Zayn a year later he becomes suspicious about Eric’s sudden change in behavior. What sort of connection do they all have?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. It All Starts With A Mistake

**Author's Note:**

> So this little masterpiece (yes, I'm sarcastic) has been on Tumblr for about a year, but I felt the need to also post it here, mostly bc Danny doesn't have a fandom here yet, and bc I want all my stuff to be easier accessible.

Danny walked into the studio. A bunch of screaming girls had been outside but unlike many other days, they were not there for him. One Direction was in town. The British-Irish boy band were recording at the same studio as Danny today, so Danny had told his sister to meet him there when she’d finished school. She was a huge fan and she had to get something out of her big brother being famous, didn’t she?

“Good morning, Danny! You’re all set for studio 2 today, One Direction needs number 1 since they’re five people and number 1 is bigger than number 2, is that okay?” The receptionist said.

“Yeah, that’s cool, as long as I get to meet them. My sister’s a big fan.”

“Great. They’re here already, having breakfast in the foyer.” Danny thanked the receptionist and walked towards the foyer.

“I don’t know, man. This ‘kebab pizza’ is pretty cool.” An Irish voice said.

“Ew, Niall, I can’t believe you have pizza for breakfast.” A voice speaking in a British accent said.

“Louis, leave it. You know how he is.” Another British voice.

“Yeah, and what’s so bad about pizza for breakfast?” A new voice, very low pitch and slow.

“I don’t know, it’s just wrong.” The second voice said. Danny walked into the room to find four boys in a heated discussion about breakfast habits while another was sleeping. “What do you think?” The boy whose name was Louis looked at Danny. The other three did to, interested in hearing the answer. The blond boy was eating a pizza, so Danny guessed that this was Niall – the Irish one. The others were drinking either tea or coffee from mugs and eating sandwiches. Danny desperately tried to remember their names. His sister had showed him pictures of them yesterday and told him all about them. The boy with the curls was Harry, and the other brown haired one was Liam, so the sleeping one had to be Zayn, but Danny paid him no attention, since the other four boys had their full attention on him.

“Pizza for breakfast is great when you’re hung over, but on a normal day it’s just sort of weird.” Was his answer, to which Louis raised his fist into the air as a winning gesture.

“See, told you, Niall!” The Irish boy looked defeated.

“Fine. But it still tastes good!”

“So who are you?” Liam asked Danny, and Danny was happy that he didn’t have to sit next to them being awkward on his own.

“I’m Danny Saucedo. I’m recording in studio 2 today, I was supposed to have studio 1, but then this stupid English boyband threw me out like a bunch of divas.” He joked with them.

“I’m sorry man, that must suck. English boybands are not what they used to be.” Was Liam’s response with a wink. They all laughed.

“Hey, can I take a picture of you guys with my sister later when she gets here? She’s a huge fan of you guys.” They all nodded and smiled.

“Yeah, of course you can.” Louis said.

“Danny, the studio’s ready for you.” A person shouted from Studio 2.

“Look, it was great meeting you guys, see you later, alright?”

“Of course, man. Good luck with the recording!” Liam said.

“Thanks, you too.” As Danny exited the room he got a closer look at the sleeping Zayn. There was something familiar about his jaw line. Danny could not place it. But he forgot about it the minute he entered the studio and started working.

 

\------

 

A few hours later it was time for lunch and Danny stepped out of the studio, starving, only to find the boys from One Direction sitting in the foyer again.

“Hey, it’s our friend!” Niall exclaimed and smiled at him. The other boys looked up and Danny could now see Zayn’s eyes. Just like the jaw line, the eyes seemed familiar. I’ve seen this guy on a bunch of posters in my sister’s room. Of course he is familiar. Danny thought, but it still didn’t feel right. He knew this guy from somewhere else.

“Yeah, we wanted to ask you. Do you know any good places to get food? You’re from around here, right?” Liam asked.

“Yeah, I know this great Chinese place just around the corner. I was actually thinking of going there now, do you guys want to join?” The boys all looked at each other, before answering they’d like to. The six guys walked out trough the back door and stepped into the restaurant. The five younger boys made sure the conversation didn’t get boring during the lunch. Danny laughed at their jokes and joined in their banter. The whole time Danny tried to figure out where he recognized those cheek bones from. One the way back to the studio Danny’s sister called to say she was waiting for him there, having a free period at school.

“So you’re Danny’s sister?” Harry said, hugging the happy girl.

“Okay, you ready with the phone?” Liam asked as they all lined up for a pose.

“Yeah, say ‘kebab pizza’” Danny said and snapped the picture, all the boys laughed.

 

 

______

Eric slammed the laptop closed. _They had met._ The tears rushing to his eyes were unavoidable. The thought of the two of them both being in the music business was hard enough. Now he had to deal with them working in the same studio? He had thought he had gotten away from all of this when giving the boy up for adoption. He had even switched countries and gone back in time so that none would figure it out, especially Danny. That night should never have happened. Danny didn’t care about it anyways. Danny didn’t care about Eric. _He’ll never love me the way I love him._ Eric thought, desperately trying to blink away the tears, but to no success. Soon he was sobbing uncontrollably over the other man.

 

**A Year Earlier**

 

“And with 14.9% of your votes, 70 points goes to song number 1!” The host said, making Danny feel his heart sink. He had just been second. Eric would get the remaining votes and win the competition.

“So with 23.7% of the votes, giving him 112 points, the winner of Melodifestivalen 2011 is Eric Saade!” The music started playing, Eric was screaming from happiness, but when his dancers started pulling him towards the stage to do his performance again, he instead ran back to Danny, hugging him, whispering into his ear:

“It should have been you.” Making Danny shiver at the closeness and think it was only the two of them in the arena, but before he had a chance to say something back, the younger man had been pulled away and led up on stage while the fans were screaming. Danny smiled. Eric deserved this. His performance had been better, and he looked damn sexy in that leather jacket. Wait, what? Had he just thought that Eric was sexy? It must be the rush of the moment, the fact that Eric just beat him in the competition. But that still didn’t make sense. Should he not be angry with Eric for being more popular? But how could he be angry at a person that looked so cute and happy? Danny looked at the twenty-one-year-old who was now making his performance, dancing in a glass cube before breaking it. So there had been an extra cube. They had expected this to happen. But then again, Danny and his dancers had also been prepared to do a second performance tonight. They had both been favorites after all.

 

\------

 

Eric drowned another shot. There were a constant flow of drinks coming his way and who was he to refuse when he didn’t even have to pay for them. He was, after all, practically the most important person in the country right now. It was all up to him, to win the Eurovision and save his Sweden of the humiliation last year. Someone slung an arm around his shoulders and Eric turned to the right and found perfect cheekbones and a smile.

“Congratulations, dude! I guess you’ll be going to Düsseldorf in May then?” Eric copied the grin, trying and failing to ignore the little butterfly flutter in his stomach from the press of Danny to his body.

“Yeah, I guess.” Eric shrugged; the arm fell off his shoulders, but was quickly back again.

“Come on! Let’s do some more shots!” Danny yelled enthusiastically over the loud music, gripping Eric’s shoulder tighter. One quickly turned into two, then three and four and Eric lost count when Danny dragged him to the dance floor.

There were throngs with withering bodies everywhere and then there were large hands on his waist, his hips, and even in his drunken haze, Eric sent Danny a confused look. Only Danny wasn’t paying attention, he was belting out the lyrics to the song on the stereo and Eric grinned lazy and his insides felt like warm honey when he heard it was his own song and joined Danny. They probably sounded like shit, but Eric was too drunk on the alcohol and the press of Danny’s body against his to care.

 

As the last refrain died out and the next song came on, the grip Danny had on Eric tightened, pressing Eric flush against his body and Eric groaned as his pelvis pressed against Danny’s. He was already half hard and he knew he must have had too much to drink before because he didn’t care that it was another man pressed against him, much less that it was Danny. It felt good. Good enough for his mind to forget that he had a girlfriend and was straight and what the upshot would be if the press got word that Eric Saade was making out with a guy in a club

Eric giggled, buried his face into Danny’s neck and murmured, “ _In the club, the club, the club._ ”

Danny shivered as Eric’s hot breath assaulted his neck and Eric giggled again before he pressed his lips to the spot where shoulder became neck, making Danny squirm and whimper. He trailed hot open mouthed kisses along Danny’s jaw then, grinning as hands dug into the flesh on his hips.

“Let’s get out of here.” He wasn’t sure who had said it, but then Danny’s hand was in his and he was being dragged again, only this time away from the dance floor and out of the club. The cold hair somewhat cleared Eric’s head and he clung to the feeling from inside the club, to the feeling of Danny’s hard body against his. He was drunk, and that was the only reason why he would do something like this.

 

They hailed down a cab and before Eric knew it, they were in the hotel and on Eric’s floor and he slid his card key in room 627 before he remembered the last digit had definitely been five. Danny laughed and then the door was open and slammed shut as Danny pressed Eric up against the door.

Their lips met and instead of rough and desperate like Eric had expected, it was light and sweet and it made Eric’s stomach churn and he didn’t want to think why he all of the sudden felt a tiny bit nervous so he tried Danny’s mouth open with his tongue and picked up the pace.

He was going light-headed, Danny gave as good as he got and Eric’s skin felt too small for his body and he clung to Danny’s shirt. Eric didn’t know what he wanted but it didn’t matter because Danny seemed to, and he obliged as a hand under his knee moved his leg over Danny’s hip and their pelvis’ thrust together in a way that made starts explode behind Eric’s eyelids.

“Shit, nghh,” Eric panted as their hips pressed together tighter and his legs wound around Danny’s waist. “I want you so fucking bad.”

Danny whimpered and his arms circled under Eric’s armpits and then they were moving and they didn’t stop kissing until Danny dropped Eric on the bed and crawled up his body.

Eric didn’t think he’s ever seen something so hot.

Danny kissed him hard, hard enough for Eric to buck his hips up, seeking friction. His jeans were too tight and his dick was hurting. They had kissed a few times before, for laughs and before fans wanted it, but never like this. Danny had never sucked on his tongue before and it made Eric’s dick twitch in its confines. Danny pressed down against him and he could feel Danny’s own erection and he wanted to cry because it felt too much and still not enough.

“To much clothes,” Danny breathed into his ear and all he could do was jerk his head up and down in agreement and Danny helped him pull his shirt off. He wiggled out of his jeans, a feat hard when laying down and even harder when every new patch of skin above him visible made Eric want to lick it.

Years of dancing and working out had toned Danny’s body into something Eric could only dream for and Eric wanted to touch. And so he did. He couldn’t do much more, though, because suddenly Danny was sucking on his clavicle and down and Eric wondered how it’d feel to have Danny inside him and arched his back at the thought and ministrations. His vocal chords felt lose, like words and sounds were just slipping out and no matter how hard, he tried, he be quiet.

“Fuck,” he hissed as Danny fingered the waistband of his briefs and then gasped and he shucked them down. “Fuck, fuck, _fuck_.”

Danny smirked, removed his own, and pressed a kiss to Eric’s hipbone. “Yeah.”

It was still too much, still not enough, and nearly borderline to painful and Eric sobbed when Danny took hold of him. It was dry and warm and oh so hot, Eric’s fingers dug into Danny’s shoulders. “I need you inside me, Dan-“

A firm tug made a loud whimper escape and Eric looked down at Danny and saw the thin layer of swat on his face, the way his skin glowed from the streetlamps outside and glister, and the hooded look in his face. Danny’s pupils were dilated impossibly big. “You sure?” His voice was rugged, hoarse, like he was the one who had been unabashedly let his want be heard and Eric nodded.

“Oh god yes, please.”

Danny pressed two fingers into Eric’s mouth, “Suck them,” he instructed and Eric did. Danny groaned, his forehead dropping to Eric’s sternum and Eric hollowed his cheeks and sucked hard, hoping to elicit a more audible reaction. Danny swore into Eric’s skin and he felt something analogues to proud swell in his chest. He was the one who was making Danny lose control.

His fingers disappeared and then all Eric could see were blue eyes and he could feel a wet finger circle his hole and if it weren’t for the warmth of the alcohol in his belly and the obvious want in Danny’s eyes, he was sure he would have run away by now. Everything was moving so fast, he had never even thought of being with a man before and now he was nodding and Danny looked relived and pressed inside.

The intrusion stung and Danny told him to relax, pampering his skin with feather light kisses before he pressed in to the knuckle and Eric tried his damn bets to relax but it felt so weird. Danny’s mouth found Eric’s and for a moment, Eric forgot all about the finger until he felt the press of another against the rim. A silent query for permission and Eric kissed back hard, eager, saying yes, yes please because the pain was ebbing away and he wanted Danny inside of him. He wanted him so bad. He spread his legs wider.

He could feel himself stretch, and it hurt, his eyes moistening but he didn’t tell Danny didn’t ask if he wanted him to stop. Eric thinks it must be the alcohol that made him so willing, so wanton, so desperate for Danny to fill him. The pain was starting to ebb away and Danny did something and Eric bucked and half-shouted a curse and begged him to do that again. Another digit joined the two first and this time, it didn’t take long before he was bucking against the fingers.

“Please, Danny,” he sobbed. It was still too much and yet not enough and he wanted more. “ _Please_.”

“Are you sure about this, babe?” Danny asked, his previously glazed over eyes surprisingly clear and Eric didn’t he would be able to survive if Danny didn’t continue. Eric was practically fucking himself on his fingers, what more did he want?

Eric licked his lips, his dick painfully hard. “Yes so don’t you dare stop, I need you inside me. Fuck, please!” He wondered when he turned into such a sobbing, begging mess, but then Danny was moving around and his hand was back on Eric’s cock and he threw his head back into the pillow.

The fingers were gone and something bigger pressed against his opening. He whimpered at the loss and tried to move down. Danny’s hands on his hips stilled him. Then he was pressing slowly inside and tears welled up in his eyes and slipped over because it hurt. It fucking hurt. It felt like he was being ripped in half and he couldn’t breathe.

When Danny’s hips were flush to Eric’s arse, he stilled and Eric didn’t think he’d ever been more grateful for anything in his life before. Possibly his career but that didn’t seem as important right now, with Danny fully inside of him and all. He wasn’t sure how long they were frozen like that, one minute or maybe two or maybe a hundred but Danny’s hands were shaking and when the pain finally sustained a bit and he got more used to the stretch and he signaled for Danny that he was ok.

Danny moved.

He started slow and careful, thrust shallow, and as Eric started to move in rhythm and Danny hit that spot in him that made everything bright and his body tremble, Danny went faster, harder. Eric was clinging to Danny’s shoulders, digging his nails into the flesh and there were an endless flow of words coming out of Danny’s mouth.

“- oh, fuck, you’re so tight – so tight, babe, I can’t – shit, you’re begging for it, aren’t you – feel so good – beautiful – fucking hot, fuck –“

Eric wrapped his legs around Danny’s waist, the new angle making them both more desperate. Danny was close, Eric knew it. His moves less smooth and jerkier, frantic and as soon as Danny’s hand touched Eric’s dick, Eric came. White hot pleasure shot through his body, his toes curling and there were explosions in his veins and behind his eyelids.

Danny came only second later and he stilled, his cock twitching and Eric felt Danny’s hot cum inside him. He pulled out; Eric winced, and collapsed on his body. It was heavy, and their stomachs pressed together over his cum. It was gross and Eric wanted to go and wash up, but then Danny moved so he was lying beside him and Danny’s head was on his shoulder and exhaustion creeped up on him. He was hot and sticky and sore and soon asleep, the weight and the warmth of Danny beside him almost comforting.

 

\------

 

The pain in his head was almost unbearable. It felt like he’d been hit by a bus and then ran over by a herd of elephants. Eric grunted and made a weak attempt to open his eyes. Sunlight slipping into the room through the open curtains burned his vision and he quickly shut them again. He groaned at the pain in his head and the soreness in his arms, his legs, his back, his… Eric quickly sat up; widening his eyes, no longer caring how much his head throbbed at his sudden motion. The bed sheets clung to his chest and the back of his thighs as he tried to make his way out of the bed, but stopped at the uncomfortable feeling. He put a hand under the sheet covering him and felt a layer of some dried goo. Cum. Great. So he had gotten it on with Molly last night and-

No. That was impossible. How could he have gotten a sore hole from sex with a girl? Fear. Black, heart breaking fear mixed with embarrassment and shame creeped up on him as he realized what he’d done, who he’d done. Too fast he turned his head to see if the other man was still in the room, a simultaneous feeling of being stabbed in the head and the heart with a knife hit him as he saw that the bed was empty and no other clothes than his own were scattered over the floor.

“I’m such a fucking idiot.” Eric groaned to himself as he fell back onto the mattress. “Well, at least I can pretend it never happened and Danny and I will never speak of it again.”

A few days later the morning sickness started.


	2. The Son Of Two Men

How was this even possible? He was a man. Men could not get pregnant. It was a scientific fact.

“It is a rare occurrence but it does happen sometimes. Most men who are put in your position do an abortion as soon as they can and pretend nothing happened. Some go away for a year and give the baby up for adoption when it’s born. Considering your low age and your busy schedule the next few months, I would suggest an abortion. But talk-“

“I won’t do an abortion. It’s wrong. Just because I messed up doesn’t mean that the baby should not live.” Eric said quickly. The doctor, Anders Hedlund, gave him a knowing smile, many girls had told him the same thing in the past, and he somewhat agreed with them, even though it was his job to be neutral and not to affect the parents’ decision in any way. He continued talking.

“You should not make the choice on your own though. Go home and talk it over with the other father. It is a mutual decision after all.” Eric flinched at the mention of the other father. There was no way he would discuss this with Danny, the doctor seemed to notice his reluctance to this and sighed, while sitting down next to him on the hospital bed. “Look, Eric. I know who you are, most people in this country do. My daughter is a big fan. I also know that you are not publicly homosexual yet, believe me, my daughter has told me many times and had a war with my son over it. If you don’t want to come out yet that is fine, my son took a long time before he dared telling me and my wife, I realize what kind of pressure you’re under as well, with the Eurovision coming up and all, and I also realize what the press would say if they knew about your preferences, not to mention your girlfriend and how this would affect her. But please Eric, remember that you are not alone in this. I offer you whatever advice I can give, and I think I’m not the only one who wants to help.” By now, Eric’s eyes were flooding. The tears ran down his face like raindrops on a window. Dr Hedlund put a comforting hand on the singer’s upper back and continued in a lighter, more cautious voice. “If you don’t mind me asking, who is the other father?” Eric shook his head, fear in his eyes.

“It doesn’t matter. I can’t talk to him.” His voice was thick and hoarse from crying. Dr Hedlund got worried. He had seen this look on a few girls’ faces before. In an even softer voice he spoke.

“Eric, were you forced into something? You know you can tell me anything, right? I am sworn to secrecy.” But to the doctor’s relief the boy laughed, however bitterly, but he laughed.

“No, I wasn’t forced. I made the move, I think. I was really drunk though, so I can’t really remember. But I know I was up for it. I wanted it. But I really can’t talk to him about it. I’m not even gay, and neither is he. I have a girlfriend, whom I love, and I can’t believe I cheated on her for a drunken night of butt sex. I don’t even think he remembers. He was gone when I woke up and he hasn’t spoken to me about it at all, just acted like normal. Anders, what should I do?” Dr. Hedlund really wanted to help this boy out, maybe because Eric was trapped in such a terrible situation and Anders was a humanitarian, maybe because both his children had a crush on the celebrity. One of the reasons, maybe both, made him make a promise to the dark haired man and call an old friend.

“I know what to do, Eric. Don’t worry. The baby will live, have a great life and you will be able to get back to your life as if nothing happened. Let me just call The Doctor.” Eric seemed confused.

“I thought you were the doctor?” Dr Hedlund laughed.

“I am A doctor. But there is only one THE Doctor.”

 

\------

 

Zayn Malik had always known he was different. It was at a young age his parents told him he was adopted. The five year old boy had asked who the young man in all the old family pictures from before Zayn was born was, and his parents had saw no reason to lie to their little angel.

“Zayn, you see, when a mother and a father can’t get a child of their own, sometimes they need someone else to help them. This man in this picture is your real father, the person who gave birth to you.” Trisha explained to her son, afraid what his response would be to hearing he was not really theirs.

“Why don’t I live with him? Why am I with you and daddy?”

“He could not take care of you, sweetie. He came from the future and needed help to take care of his baby, and we did. We both love you very much and we are grateful that he gave you to us.” Zayn seemed to think for a moment. Then he tumbled over to his adoptive parents and they pulled him into their arms, happy he still wanted them.

“You’re still my mummy and daddy.” The five year old boy smiled, a sigh of relief coming from the mouths of Mr. and Mrs. Malik.

 

\------ 

 

It had gone a few years before they let him know that both his biological parents were men. They had not felt it necessary until the boy understood human physiology and the whole “birds and the bees”-concept. Neither had they wanted to push information onto the still very young boy, they wanted him be comfortable asking questions on his own. And since Eric never told them about who the other father was, they hoped Zayn would not ask about him, knowing it might upset him. They had told him all about Eric though. How he was from the future, he was from Sweden, he was a singer, and he was a happy person filled of life. But then came the day Zayn asked to know more about his other parent. Who was it? Did they have any pictures? Had they met them? Trisha and Yaser had prepared for this talk for a few weeks, discussing it late at night when the kids had gone to sleep.

“Zayn, you know how much we love you, and we would tell you all about your other real father if we could, but Eric never mentioned him. We asked many times, but he avoided the question every time.” The now ten year old boy looked sad. He had wanted to know something, anything. Just so that he could know if any of his treats were from him.

“So you don’t know anything. Anything at all?” It pained the Malik couple to see their son so disappointed, so they started telling him about the suspicions and assumptions they had made.

“We think he’s Swedish, like Eric, and since your cheekbones look nothing like Eric’s, we think you got them from him. We also think he and Eric were pretty close friends but something went wrong, from the way Eric reacted when asked. That is why we also think he does not know you exist.” The last sentence had been nothing more than a whisper from Trisha’s lips, but even though his mother teared up, Zayn had a smile on his lips, unfazed that one of his biological fathers didn’t know he existed.

“But Eric knows, right? And he’ll come see me in the future?” The Malik’s smiled and nodded.

“Yes, Zaynie. He promised that he would try and find you as soon as he could.”

 

\------

 

Having two men as biological parents were nothing that seemed like his friends would accept, so Zayn let it be a secret that he was adopted. The only ones who knew were his closest family. The teenaged Zayn had sometimes thought of himself as a freak, a normal person could not have been conceived by two men. It had made him distance himself from his school mates and he’d had to change schools because he didn’t feel like he fit in. Every time someone made a rude joke about homosexuals or called another person a fag Zayn felt hit by it. It didn’t matter who it was directed to, if it was said as a serious insult or just a mindless joke, Zayn always felt like the target. His fathers were gay. At least they had been the time Zayn came into the picture. Everything that insulted them also insulted their son. Mr and Mrs Malik could not count the number of times Zayn had gotten into fights trying to defend someone for being called queer or punched someone in the face for saying something homophobic. They were worried about him, and feared how far this could go. Many nights Trisha cried herself to sleep, afraid what could happen to her boy the next day. Yaser could do nothing but helplessly watch his son fall into despair while he himself tried to comfort his wife.

It was not until Zayn discovered music that things started to calm down. He knew his father was a singer, and singing made Zayn miss him less. He started spending hours in his room, just singing along to songs on his iPod. He never wanted anyone to hear him sing, he was to scared for that. But his mother heard his voice, and she decided to sign him up for the X-factor. First, Zayn had been reluctant. What if he was not good enough? He was too different from everyone else. He was the offspring of two homosexuals. People would never accept him. But after being persuaded and somewhat bribed by his mother, he agreed to go.

That was the best decision in his whole life. Thanks to the X-factor he got to meet his four best friends in the whole world. Liam, Niall, Louis and Harry were the first people he ever told the truth to. The truth about his parents, his both fathers, and even though they were confused at first, they believed him and accepted him for who he is. They way Zayn was first faced with Eric’s fame and the way he had to tell his friends could have turned out better though.

 

It was a year after the X-factor, Swedish television wanted to do an interview with One Direction to make their Swedish fans happy. The interview was not very different from any other interviews really. What was it like to suddenly get famous? Who had girlfriends? Did they match the sort of boy band that had the typical stereotypes? That was until the Swedish quiz started. The interviewer held up pictures of Swedish people which the boys had to guess. Niall was the clever one in the group so he answered almost all the questions. Abba, the king and queen, the prime minister and then:

“Eric Saade.” Zayn flinched and looked at the picture of a young man wrapped in a Swedish flag. Of course it was him, his father. Louis was confused to how Niall knew this person, and Zayn was desperate to hear the answer as well.

“How do you know all these things?”

“He was in the Eurovision Song Contest. Competed against Jedward.” Niall answered, “He came third place I think. He was really good.” Zayn almost wanted to shout out: ‘That’s my father, he’s part of the reason I started singing in the first place!’ but couldn’t. The boys didn’t know, and Eric had wanted it to be a secret, maybe Eric himself didn’t know yet. The interviewer laughed.

“And he is a big girl favourite, much like yourselves.” Zayn shuddered and he could tell that Liam and Louis both had felt it. A girl favourite? Then he could impossibly be publicly homosexual yet. The Bradford boy felt his hopes of seeing his father soon shatter in his chest, as the interview dragged on and finally came to and end.

 

 

After they all had gone over to Louis and Harry’s flat, ordered and gotten their pizzas all under the usual banter and joke pulling, they sat down and Liam suddenly got serious. The others sensed what was coming and Louis jumped of off Niall, who he had been tickling, cheered on by Harry. Liam turned his concerned puppy eyes at Zayn.

“Zayn, care to tell us why you got so tense when talking about that Saade-guy in the interview today?” He said in a soft voice. Zayn sighed, it had to come out sooner or later. They had many times in the past proven themselves to be his best friends and he knew they wouldn’t judge him.

“I, eh, never told you about my real parents.” His voice was uncertain and nervous; this was a really hard thing to tell them about.

“You’re adopted?” Niall said, looking just as surprised as the other three boys.

“Yes, I am. And none knows about it, just my closest family and now you will know as well.” And he told them the full story, at least the parts he knew. How Eric had come to his parents, asking them to take care of his child once it was born, how he had lived with them for nine months, leaving almost straight after child birth. How he had come from the future, proving it by predicting things that would happen. How Zayn was the child of two men, but didn’t know who the other father was since Eric never told them. They all listened and didn’t interrupt him once. Not even Louis seemed to have anything to say, even though Harry had a confused look on his face during the tale of the two dads.

“I’ve never told anyone this before, because people would think I’m a freak. I really und-“ But he was cut off by Louis.

“You’re not a freak, Zayn. Harry has four nipples, that’s freaky.” Harry slapped his arm but quickly apologized.

“Yeah, and before you say that you really understand if we don’t want to be friends with you anymore I want you to think back. When have we ever given you the impression that we would leave you because of your background? We don’t care, Zayn. We are your friends, no matter what.” Liam said, Niall enthusiastically nodding. Zayn looked at his four friends and felt his vision go blurry.

“Aw, come here.” Louis said and wrapped two strong arms around him and pulled him closer.

“Group hug!” The leprechaun shouted and jumped at the hugging pair, Harry and Liam joining in a few seconds later. Zayn could do nothing but smile and cry of the happiness at having friends like this.


	3. The Man Who Gave Birth

The pain was unbearable. Nothing in the world could compare to this. Eric felt like he would explode any second now. Trisha held his hand and asked him to breathe slowly with her. Over the last nine months he had grown to love her as a sister. She had helped him trough the morning sickness, the mood swings and now she was helping him through the birth.

“Push, Eric, push.” An unknown voice told him and he obeyed. The pain got worse. His whole body ached like he had been run over by a train. The usually smiling face was all bizarrely cringed into a grimace that showed nothing but pain, eyes burning from tears and his lips tightly shut, teeth screech from the pressure they’re under from clenched jaws. Could he die? Eric was sure dying would be less painful. Death would be a release from this hideous torment. He pushed again, trying to breathe in sync with Trisha, just like he had practised, but failed miserably, letting out whimpers and cries of pain. Why had he agreed to do this? Why had he not just gotten the abortion and why on Earth did he have to be stupid enough to have sex with Danny? Eric saw his life flashing by his eyes and he felt that the end was near, now almost numb from the extreme ache. But then, a noise that made the pain bearable and the world stop.

The small cry of a baby.

Eric’s shut eyes flew open. That was his child. It was the solid proof that he hadn’t gone through those months for nothing. A new child was brought into this world and he felt proud that he was the one who had accomplished it.

“You did well, Eric. It’s a beautiful baby boy. Do you want to hold him?” The nurse who had urged him to push asked him. Eric’s eyes scanned over Trisha’s face. She was longingly looking at the small human being wrapped in a blanket in the nurse’s arms. Eric smiled at her.

“Let the mother hold him.” Trisha blinked away tears when she was handed the baby. The father looked at her facial expression when she held the boy protected in her loving arms. The only way to describe it was pure adoration, and Eric knew he could not have found a better family for his son to grow up in. He felt at ease as his eyelids became heavy and he fell asleep from exhaustion.

 

\------

 

“Are you sure you want to return home already?” The man in the tweed jacket and bow tie asked the pop star. “You could always stay for a few years. I have all the time in the world. Time machine you know.” Eric smiled at the enthusiasm the strange man had.

“I’m sure. I need to get away as soon as possible. I need to go home. I don’t belong here. I’m in the wrong time. I just can’t handle seeing the Spice Girls become popular one more time.” The strange man laughed.

“Fine. I will take you back, to the same day you left. None will ever notice, well, except you.”

The both men stepped into the blue police box that was bigger on the inside and took off to the year 2011, March 18th.

 

\------

 

_My dearest Eric._

_I remembered how you asked me for an update on Zayn’s life before you left. Believe it or not, but he’s an as much talented singer as you are. Simon Cowell immediately gave him a yes when he auditioned for the X-factor. You might not have heard about them yet, but I think his band, One Direction is going places._

_He knows about you, by the way. He knows who you are and we’ve seen your progress. We have told him everything about his past and he’s dying to meet you. I even think the whole reason he started with the singing was a way to feel closer to you. I think he felt a bit lost when attending school. He felt different from his classmates and I think he was jealous of the fact that his sisters (Yaser and I got three daughters of our own) were related to us and he could see the resemblances between his sisters and parents, but not find anything in his own features that was mirrored in any of us. I understand were you are right now in your life, just leaving us on a cold January night. Me, I have not seen you for a little over eighteen years, eighteen years I got to spend with your son. It feels so unfair that you didn’t get to spend any time with him except those few days in the beginning of his life. You missed his first word (which was “mama”), his first steps, his first day of school, his first kiss, his first detention (for slapping a boy who called another boy a “fag” in third grade), his first time switching schools for not feeling like he belonged, his first encounter with music, his audition to the X-factor. I know you have a lot on your plate right now, Eurovision and all, but I hope you can come visit us in the autumn when all has calmed down, we haven’t moved, so you know were to find us, just let me know in advance so I can make sure Zayn is home. He is so busy these days. Moved off to London, singing on live television, going on tour, I’m enormously proud of him. I only miss him a little, but he never forgets to call once a week. He is such a good boy; I bet you would love him. He somewhat reminds me of you. He’s shy and quiet in the beginning but once he warms up to a person he is the light of the room. He has your eyes as well. Sometimes when I look into them I almost see you smiling back at me, and every time I tell him that, he lights up like a light bulb. I’m really sorry if you feel intimidated by this letter and I know you might also feel guilty for leaving him behind and for letting him not know his real parents, but please Eric, don’t. I know how you can wind yourself up over things and I honestly think you shouldn’t think about Zayn at all right now. Try and forget him for now, he is just as busy as you are. We can deal with all of this after the summer. We have waited eighteen years, I think we can hold on a bit longer. I wish you the best and good luck in the Eurovision Song Contest!_

_Love Trisha_

 

The letter lay on the table in front of him, his dear friend’s familiar hand writing filling the white paper. Despite her pleads, Eric started feeling the guilt clog up his throat. He had missed so much of his son’s life. Learning to talk, learning to walk, learning to read and write, drawing pictures with crayons to hang on the refrigerator door, going to the zoo and showing him the monkeys playing, taking him to the first day of school, going to parent-teacher meetings, genuinely just being a father. But before the tears started flooding he blinked them back. He needed to be strong in this, crying over something he couldn’t control wouldn’t help him. For the second time he grabbed the letter and read it, more carefully this time, not as eager to get to the end. Zayn had auditioned for the X-factor. His son loved singing, because it brought him closer to Eric. A smile spread across his face at that. His son wanted to meet him, and knew who he was. Eric’s eyes scanned the name of the band that was mentioned, One Direction. It couldn’t hurt to know what kind of people his son hang out with and what sort of music he liked. Almost too quickly he grabbed his laptop from the other side of the table and clicked the compass icon on his desktop. He typed “one direction” into the search bar and pressed enter. 560 000 hits. Wow. They must be pretty big. Eric thought as he clicked the first link which was a short Wikipedia article about them, saying they had been formed by Simon Cowell when neither of them qualified as a solo artist to go through to the Judges Houses. He read that they had finished at third place, feeling really proud of his son, but also sad that he had not had the opportunity to see him perform. When he had read the other band members’ names (Harry Styles, Liam Payne, Niall Horan and Louis Tomlinson) he saw a small picture, which he clicked on to enlarge. Eric choked on his breath at the sight of his son, because it was obvious it was his son, standing with his arm slung over a blond boy and another arm around a boy with light brown hair, a huge smile plastered across his face with two other boys standing on opposite sides of them, a curly haired boy with an arm around the brown haired boy Zayn was holding and another brown haired boy with a slight similarity to a puppy standing with an arm around the blond boy. The reason Eric could so easily see who Zayn was almost made him start to cry, despite his determination not to. He had the same perfect cheekbones and jaw line as his father, Danny fucking Saucedo.


	4. Tommo Awakenings

Being woken up by Louis Tomlinson was never a joyful experience, something all the boys from One Direction had learned the hard way. Of course, Harry suffered more of the “Tommo Awakenings” than the others, the poor lad, since they lived in the same flat, and often shared a hotel room. The awakenings could entail very different things, and other people than Louis could be included in the little plans, for example when Niall and Liam joined Louis to sing the wake-up-song to Harry and Zayn when they spend time at the bungalow which differed greatly from the time Niall woke up by having a pie thrown at his face, or when Harry woke up in Liam’s bathtub (and had fallen asleep on his own couch).

Zayn’s sleepy mind registered footsteps approaching, and prayed that it would not turn out to be Louis. He just could not handle being rudely woken up today. But it had been Liam’s turn yesterday (his feet dipped in a bucket of water) and Niall and Harry the day before that (tied up to each other, back to back) so Zayn mentally groaned, but accepted the fact that it was his turn, somewhat curious what Louis would come up with, this last day of work before a two week holiday. A soft click of something being plugged into a socket and a muffled chuckle, Louis’s chuckle, before Zayn suddenly felt hot air blowing into his face. The hairdryer? Really? Zayn was disappointed.

“Good morning, Lou. Was that really the best thing you could come up with?” He said while opening his eyes, seeing Louis wearing an equally disappointed look on his face.

“I know. I’ve ran out of ideas. I think I’ll have to come up with a few new ones during the break, so I can wake you up real good during the tour!” The older boy looked ecstatic about going home. “I’ll try them all on Lottie, so I know they’re good.” Zayn got out of bed and grabbed a t-shirt from the floor, deciding it was clean enough before putting it on. It wasn’t like they had anything big to do today anyways. Just a short meeting with the label about the schedule for the weeks after the holiday, as well as an exhortation to not do anything stupid during the break that could put the band in a bad light.

“So you decided on going to Doncaster then? Not staying in London at all?” Zayn asked while pulling his pant on.

“I don’t see the point really.” Louis said, pulling the plug of the hairdryer. “I mean, Liam’s going to Wolverhampton with Danielle, Harry’s going to Holmes Chapel, Niall is flying home to Ireland and you are going home to see your family in Bradford. I’m taking this as an opportunity to see my family and old friends.” If only Zayn could say the same thing.

“I hear you. I really miss my parents.” It was a low mumble, so low that Louis could understand what the problem was. He hesitated, was now really the best time to talk about this? Would Zayn think it was okay to discuss it? None of them had really mentioned it since Zayn had told the boys about his parentage. Louis decided that Zayn needed to talk about it, because he knew that if he had been in the same position he’d want to talk about it, and stepped closer to his friend, putting a reassuring hand on his shoulder.

“Yeah, how are you holding up about that, anyways? We haven’t really talked about Eric since you told us.” Zayn shrugged.

“I don’t know. I try not to think about him. I mean, maybe he doesn’t even know I exist yet, maybe I’m not even conceived yet. It’s just so strange to think about.” Louis was unsure of what to say in response. How do you comfort a person who might not even be conceived yet? He heard quiet sobs and felt Zayn’s body shake, trying to hold back tears. The older boy grabbed his other shoulder and guided him to sit down on the bed, pulling him into a tight hug.

“Shhh, it’s okay, it will all be okay.” He cooed, before catching himself. How could he be sure of that? “Okay, I know that it’s stupid of me talking about things I don’t understand. But I have a feeling you’ll meet him and it’ll be sooner than you think. I bet you’ll meet him before my birthday. And if you don’t, I’ll personally go to Sweden and seek him up for you.” Zayn chuckled, so Louis guessed he saved them from the awkward silence he had felt creeping up on them. The younger boy squeezed him back before they both let go and stood up, walking out of the hotel room.

“I really appreciate it, man. I don’t know what I would do without the four of you.” Louis turned and gave him one of his genuine smiles.

“That’s what we’re here for.” He said before launching into Niall’s door, only to discover it is locked and falling dumbstruck to the floor, making Zayn laugh hysterically.

 

The train ride home to Bradford from London was quicker than expected, possibly because Zayn fell asleep before the train left the station. Trisha picked him up at the train station to drive to the house he grew up in. She greeted him with a breathtaking hug which the boy returned, lifting his mother off the ground, spinning her around, causing her to laugh.

“My little baby, I’ve missed you!” She smiled up at her son, noting how grown up he was.

“I’ve missed you too mum.” He hugged her again, closing his eyes and sensing the familiar smell of her perfume (a gift from his dad which Zayn had helped to pick out a couple years ago) and the comfortable warmth that told him he was home.

“I have a surprise for you when we get home.” She said, and he let go of her, grabbing the bag he had dropped.

“Then let’s go home.” He smiled at her and they walked towards the parking lot, while Trisha fussed over how thin he’d gotten and if he was really eating healthy and why he had to have so many tattoos and how were the others doing and when was he going to America and if she and the girls could come and visit them because they had never been on the other side of the Atlantic and maybe all the families could come at the same time and we could have a big get together and go to Disneyland or something wouldn’t that be nice? Zayn tried to do his best to not roll his eyes and laugh at how talkative his mother was, it was obvious she had missed him.

“But I’m mostly happy that you are home, and I’m so enormously proud of you.” She said as she pulled up into the driveway and turned off the engine. Zayn smiled at her and gave her the third hug in an hour.

“I’m happy to be home, mum. I’m looking forward to seeing the family again.” He looked over her shoulder, expecting to see his sisters running to meet him, the way they usually did when he got home. A glance at the digital clock on the instrument panel told him it was 5.43 pm, and they should all be home from school. “Mum, where is everyone?” He had suddenly gotten worried. Maybe something had happened and they hadn’t told him yet.

“Yaser brought them with him to see grandma. It is a part of the surprise for you.” Something was definitely off. Trisha never referred to her husband as ‘Yaser’ when talking to her children; she always called him ‘dad’.

“Mum, is everything alright?” Apparently Trisha could notice how worried her son was, because she took his hand and smiled at him.

“Everything is perfect, dear. Now let’s go into the house.” She got out of the car and grabbed Zayn’s bag from the boot. Hesitantly also the boy exited the car and started walking up to the door, grabbing the handle, but before he could open, his mum put a hand on his arm.

“Baby, you know I love you no matter what, right?” He studied her facial expression with suspicion. “And so does Yaser and the girls.” Again, he had called her husband by his first name, and her daughters were not referred to as ‘your sisters’ the way they usually were. Something was definitely wrong, and by the tears in Trisha’s eyes Zayn could tell that whatever surprise she had, it pained her. The boy could not think of anything to say, just squeeze her hand, before she opened the front door to reveal the surprise.

The reason she was crying, the reason she used the name Yaser, the reason Zayn had felt insecure throughout his school years, the reason he had wanted to become a singer.

Standing in the hallway, looking just as scared as Zayn felt, was Eric.

“Hi, Zayn. I think it was about time we met.”


	5. The Moment He Had Waited For

A million times Zayn had imagined this moment. He had written speeches in his head, coming up with every possible dialogue between them. A hundred lines had been imprinted in his mind, now he could not form a single syllable. To his left he could feel Trisha moving uneasy. She clutched his hand and squeezed it.

“I’ll leave you too to talk. You have a lot to catch up on.” She said before smiling at the pair and exiting the house. The two boys awkwardly looked at each other and they heard the sound of a car pulling out the driveway and taking off was heard in the background, as well as the ticking of a clock. After a few moments of looking anywhere but each other, brown eyes found brown eyes and the older boy took four long strides forward and wrapped his arms around his son. Zayn really has no idea what to do with himself, this is all so overwhelming, but he rests his arms on Eric’s back.

 

And if Zayn thinks he is freaking out, it is nothing against what Eric feels in this moment. Just six months ago he gave birth to this boy. Six months ago he said goodbye and left a toddler in his crib. Now he’s standing here, hugging the same boy, eighteen and a half years added to his life. _I made a mistake. I should never have left him. I’ve missed out on so much._

“I’m so sorry, Zayn. I’m so sorry for everything.” He said and wiped a tear of his cheek, he had not ever noticed that he’d started crying. When he got no response from his son he took a step back and moved his hands to his shoulders, to properly look at him.

It was the first time he ever saw the boy up close, in person, since he was a baby, and the change in appearance was huge (well, duh, it had been eighteen years). He still had the same dark brown eyes, Eric’s eyes, but his bone structure had changed so much, now the baby fat was gone he sported a defined chin and jaw, as well as perfectly chiselled cheekbones, all features inherited from Danny. To see the resemblance between the two was painful, and Eric wanted to just cry in a pool of his own tears on the floor, but he had to be strong for Zayn, so he took a deep breath and suppressed his feelings.

“You’ve really grown up since I last saw you.” And Zayn’s stern face broke into a smile. The younger boy laughed a beautiful chuckling sound that filled Eric’s ears and made his insides warm. His son was laughing because of him, his father.

“That’s because you haven’t seen me since I was three days old.” Zayn was laughing and smiling, apparently not offended by his father leaving him at so young at all, but those words stung. “We have eighteen years to catch up on. Let’s get started!” Eric’s son took his arm and pulled him into the kitchen, setting him on a chair before pouring water into the kettle and putting it on the stove. “Everything is a little better with tea.” He mumbled and smiled at his dad before sitting down opposed to him. Eric didn’t know what to say, he was tongue-tied from Zayn’s reaction. He had expected his son to cry, shout, be angry with, or even hate him for leaving. He had prepared himself to be faced with a pissed off teenager, not a happy boy. But he wasn’t complaining. This would be so much easier if they got along from the start, without fights about abandonment and feelings of guilt. A loud whistle told them the water was boiling and Zayn went to pour tea into to mugs and placed them on the table between them and sat down. Eric picked up one of the mugs and blew on the surface to try and cool it down and took a small sip. The hot liquid burned his throat a little and loosened his tongue in the process.

“So tell me about yourself, Zayn.” And the little family got talking, telling each other stories about friends, Eric’s family, Zayn’s adoptive parents and sisters, pranks, movies they liked, places they wanted to travel to, music they listened to, people they wanted to meet, everything and nothing, they spoke for hours and the mugs were refilled many times. It struck them both of how easy it was to talk to each other and they laughed it off as a father-son-thing.

 

\------

 

“He’s there? At your house?” Liam sounded surprised at the news.

“Yes, he is. And we get along so great, he’s really awesome. He likes all the same movies and music that I do, and he said he’d come to one of our concerts, and in May when we go to Sweden we will go to an amusement park and you guys should really meet him, you’d love him too.” Liam smiled at his friend’s excitement. In the two years he’d known him, Zayn had never spoken that many words at once. Liam could only imagine how widened his eyes were at this moment, like they always were when he was excited about something. But at the same time, he was concerned. Zayn was maybe too happy about meeting his father. What if something happened that made them fall apart? What if Eric didn’t care as much for Zayn as Zayn did for Eric? What if they got into a fight over the identity of Zayn’s other father? Liam wanted to vent these thoughts, but didn’t feel that this was the time; he should let Zayn be happy at meeting his real dad. The bad thoughts could be discussed with Louis later.

“That’s really great, man! I’m really happy for you. How long is he staying?”

“He’ll be here until I go back to London. And Liam, did I tell you about that he’s a singer, just like me? It’s just so great to finally meet him! He’s exactly the way I imagined him, you have no idea how happy I am to finally have him in my life!” Liam could hear a yawn behind him and turned to see Danielle walking towards him with a tired smile on her face. He gave his girlfriend a smile back and blew her a kiss before turning his attention back to Zayn, who was still rambling of how happy he was and all the stuff he and Eric would do and how great it was to meet his real father so Liam felt a little bad for having to interrupt him.

“Hey, Zayn, it really sounds great, I’m really happy for you. But I need to go to bed; we need to get up early in the morning. I’ll talk to you more tomorrow, yeah?” Liam could almost hear Zayn smirking at the other end of the phone.

“Yeah, sure. Get up early. Right. I believe you.” It was obvious that he didn’t believe him. “I bet Danielle is in for some fun tonight.” Liam blushed and tried to protest. “No, Liam, go have your fun. Tell her I said hi. Goodnight, talk to you tomorrow.” Liam just stuttered a goodnight back before the other end was silent. He could picture Zayn’s face from the last minute of their conversation and chuckled at the winks and suggestive looks he would be getting if they’d been in the same room. Liam went to brush his teeth and say goodnight to his parents before cuddling up to Danielle, giving her a quick peck on her cheek and he could see her face light up and a smile play on her lips. He gave a blissful sigh and pulled the covers closer around them. His last thoughts before he fell asleep were if anyone felt as lucky as he did.

 

\------

 

“I considered it you know.” Zayn looked questioningly at his father. “Staying with you. Watch you grow up, be a part of your life, not just a story from your mother and a face in a picture.” Five days had passed since Zayn had come home to find Eric in his hallway. The five days had passed quickly, but if you had asked the father and son of what they’d been doing, they could not answer, because none of them had noticed time passing at all. They had shared meals with the rest of Zayn’s family, Trisha and Yaser happy to see the Swedish man again after so many years, the girls curious of their adoptive brother’s biological father. They had watched movies, listened to music, taken walks in the neighbourhood and mostly, they had talked.

“Why didn’t you?” Eric sighed. Because it was complicated and you’re the result of the biggest mistake I’ve ever made.

“My other family didn’t know were I was. I would miss them and they would miss me if I left.” He couldn’t tell Zayn the whole truth. It would be too painful for the boy.

“Didn’t you miss me and my family?” Zayn sounded sad, for the first time since they’d met. They had never spoken of things this serious before, or at least, not a topic as dangerous as this one.

“Yes. I missed you, and it pained me to see that you’d grown up without me, even though we’ve grown up during the same time.”

 

It suddenly struck Zayn how young Eric was. He could not be more than three years older than Zayn, and yet he was his father.

“How long was it since I was born? Too you, how long has it been since you last saw me?”

“Six months.” Wow, that was quite a long time. Zayn could see how he should be offended by Eric not seeing him earlier, but he just couldn’t be angry. It was a big deal to be a father, especially at so young, and to be a father of a child who was suddenly almost your own age could not be easy. Without even thinking, Zayn had forgiven him, because there was nothing to be angry about. Instead he chose to focus on a much more scary question.

“When was I… when… how… I…” Zayn was embarrassed to talk about his father’s sex life, but he wanted to know when his “real birthday” should have been.

“I don’t want to talk about it. I’m sorry, Zayn. I really care for you, but I just can’t talk about that, okay?”

“You’re not gay?” Eric flinched. “Sorry, Eric. I didn’t mean to-“

“No, it’s okay.” Eric cut him off. “No. I’m not. At least I don’t think so.” Zayn nodded and chose to not ask more questions, even though he desperately wanted to know who his other father was. But he knew that Eric would never tell him, and that it was a really painful subject to him. Well, why wouldn’t it be? A straight man sleeping with another man and getting pregnant from it may be a quite traumatic experience. Zayn suddenly felt selfish and greedy. He had Eric now. Could he not be happy with that?


	6. Escaping The Crime Scene

Danny didn’t want to open his eyes. If he opened his eyes he would see were he was, and he would see who had wrapped their arms around him in their sleep. Horrible curses ran through his throbbing head. Would the person resting on his chest wake up if he moved? Danny wanted nothing more than together up his clothes and run far away from the hotel room, never looking back, never remembering what had happened, but he was scared. He imagined how awkward the situation would be if his bed partner woke up right now, cuddled up to Danny’s bare body. How would the sleeping person react? How much did they recall from the previous evening? Would Danny be blamed for the whole thing and accused of rape? No, they had both wanted it; at least they both said they wanted it. The need was mutual, and Danny had felt their mutual orgasms. They both had enjoyed it, and from Danny’s aching muscles he could tell that he’d enjoyed it very much. Vague memories of skin touching skin and screams of pleasure and urgings to go faster, harder, deeper, made Danny flush. Yes, the euphoria had been shared, but what could possibly be said today? Danny knew he had started it. He pulled them both to the dance floor and initiated the first kiss. They could have stopped, but they didn’t. They should have stopped but they didn’t. It had felt so right at the time, and he could not bring himself to fully regret what they did, even though he knew it was wrong for many reasons. They weren’t in love. They had both been drunk and their minds had been clouded. It had been infidelity. Would the press find out? Danny felt the colour leave his cheeks and his heart beating faster at the thought of this coming out to the media. How would people react? What would their families say? What would the papers write about them? Would it become the next big joke on a parody show? How would his fans take it? Sure, this was Sweden, people weren’t very judgemental, at least not openly, as it’s frowned upon by the general public to be judgemental and stereotyped, even though secretly everyone was. In Sweden everyone accepts everything, and everything is okay, as long as it’s not me. Danny snorted at this, a bit glad he wasn’t fully Swedish and could see the culture from another perspective than the typical “Svensson” who all grew up with Swedish parents in a typical Swedish environment with the standard “Villa, Dog, Volvo”. Nope, Danny loved being of mixed heritage. “Best of both worlds.” His little sister had joked once, and he agreed, despite his strong dislike of Hannah Montana (there was just something about her voice he couldn’t stand). Multicultural life was the best and he wished the same for his children in the future.

A snore from the person with their lips pressed to Danny’s torso made him stop in his thoughts and reluctantly open his eyes, gazing over the sight that met him.

Eric’s raven hair was messed up and pointing in all directions, evidence from Danny running his tingling fingers through it the night before and he resisted an urge to repeat those actions. None of the men wore any clothes, and their bodies were a tangled mess between white sheets. Only their difference in skin tone told the arms and legs apart. For some reason they had cuddled up close to each other, as if being afraid that the other would leave, like they desperately needed one another. And they did need each other, they were best friends. Whatever people might say about it being a forced and fake friendship, Danny and Eric really liked hanging out together and didn’t see each other as “rivals” like some tabloids had claimed. This is why this was all so much worse. Because they were friends, and this would ruin their friendship like nothing else. Danny remembered that Eric told him he’d been in a situation like this before with a girl. They had been good friends, without any real chemistry, so they had been friends, never caring for each other in a romantic way, until they once both got drunk and slept together. They had been so awkward around each other it was painful to endure, so Eric had ended up asking her out just to make it stop being awkward, and they still hadn’t broke up. A flash of guilt hit Danny in the stomach and he stared at the ceiling. What would Molly say? Despite everything, he liked her and considered her a good friend. She could not find out about this, even though she probably would. Eric was way to honest a person to lie about cheating on her. Danny eyes found Eric’s sleeping figure again and something that scared him more than anything ever had, had him sick with worry. A warm feeling of affection spread from his belly all the way to his toes and fingertips. No. He had to get out of here before he did something to make this even worse, like waking the sleeping man up with a kiss, being rejected, because all it really was was a drunk shag which should be forgotten about. Moving as slowly as he could, he detached himself from Eric’s embrace, immediately missing the touch, and slithered out of the bed, soundlessly picking up his clothes before putting them on. He didn’t care that he had dried cum all over his front; it could be removed later, just as much as he cared for how obvious his walk of shame would be. After tying his shoes he gave the room a final look, his eyes lingering on the single body on the bed, watching Eric’s steady breaths, giving a small, sad smile before exiting the crime scene without looking back.

 

\------

 

“I just find it so funny that you’re such a terrible dancer, Zayn.” Louis chuckled along with his band mates. “I mean, with a dad with such moves, you should really be a better dancer.” Zayn threw a pillow at him, hitting in right in his grin.

“You’re not much better, Tommo. I mean really, pat the dog and screw the light bulb? And the girls dig the body roll by the way.” Everyone in the Malik living room laughed, the boys from One Direction had decided they wanted to meet Zayn’s dad, so they showed up with beer, pizza and their best behaviour (which might be an overstatement) at his doorstep a few hours ago, ready to welcome a new member to their family.

“The body roll? Is that what you call it?” Niall asked while opening his second beer of the evening, leaning back in the sofa next to Zayn.

“Well, what would you call it?” Zayn answered. Harry seemed confused by what was going on from his place on an armchair with Louis.

“What body roll are we talking about?” Louis pinched his nose with the arm that wasn’t resting on his shoulder.

“The one in the video with his weed-smoking friends.” Eric turned his head at his son, smirking, while Harry’s face lit up with realization.

“You smoke weed? I’m very disappointed in you, my son.” Everyone laughed. “It’s not good to do drugs. Neither should you be drinking. Or partying. What else?” He turned to the boys in search for suggestions of what parents didn’t let their kids do.

“Tattoos!” Louis said, loving to play this game. Eric smiled.

“Right, no tattoos either. Or piercings.”

“Dating!” Liam added before grabbing another piece of pizza from the coffee table.

“Yes! I have to approve of everyone you even consider dating.” Eric chuckled.

“Oh, and he has to do his homework before he can go and play with his friends!” Niall joined in the banter.

“Yeah, Zayniekins, have you done your homework? Else I would not let you sit here and have fun with your friends. You always have to put school first!” Zayn rolled his eyes at his dad.

“Yes, daddy, I have done my homework. Can I go play with my friends now?”

“Of course you can, but remember, no drinking, no drugs, no tattoos, what more?”

“Sex! No sex before marriage!” Louis shouted, and everyone laughed, not noticing Harry’s smug face and how his hand stroked the inside of Louis’ thigh.

“Of course! I forgot the most important part. Stay away from sex. We don’t want any unwanted teen pregnancies.” The room fell quiet, an uncomfortable feeling creeping up on all six of them. Eric realized his mistake and tried to talk himself out of the awkwardness. “I, I didn’t mean it like that, Zayn. You weren’t, I mean, you were, but you weren’t a mistake, he was, I don’t regret for a second that I had you.” Zayn froze, this was the first time Eric deliberately had talked about Zayn’s other father. Eric must have noticed too, because his breath hitched and a flash of fear could be detected in his eyes. Niall and Liam quickly looked at each other, still feeling the uncomfortable silence in the room, they should start talking about something else. The Irish bloke made an attempt to go back in the conversation to when no dangerous topics were discussed.

“But Liam, you should be a very much better dancer too. Danielle has really failed in trying to teach you.” Louis jumped at a chance of embarrassing a friend (a weird fetish he had) and followed up on Niall’s statement.

“They never dance though, isn’t that right, Liam? You mostly hang out in the bedroom, whatever you’re doing in there. Like at that hotel in Sheffield, remember, Harry?” Harry nodded cheekily in the armchair. “I couldn’t sleep because I heard strange noises from the room next door, which happened to be yours and Danielle’s room, Liam.”

“I couldn’t sleep either, it was awfully loud.” Harry added and Zayn caught on. Somehow everyone always joined in Louis’ games, no matter how immature or embarrassing they were.

“Yeah, I remember that. Niall and I were trying to watch a movie in the other room next door. There was this ruckus on the other side of the wall, and someone was shouting.” Liam had hid his face in his hands, but the other guys could still see how red his face was. Eric thought he had the right to join in the banter, so he did.

“Could they have been redecorating the room perhaps?” He smirked, playing along with the mock innocence.

“Possibly. There was an awful lot of moaning, probably from lifting heavy things.” Louis said, while Harry once again touched the inside of his thigh and leaning over to whisper something in his ear.

“Dani appeared to lift more things than Liam though. I heard her much more than I heard him.” Niall chuckled. Eric heard a breath hitch and looked over to the armchair, where Louis’ face was a shade darker and squirmed a bit in his seat next to a smug Harry with dark eyes. Someone was not as straight as they pretended to be. Eric chose not to say anything about it though, as their band mates didn’t notice and maybe they didn’t even know? And maybe Eric was just jumping to conclusions. The stares and innuendos and discrete touches might be one of those friendly things that they’ve always done? Who was he to comment on it, who had only known them for a few hours? So he said nothing, and jumped right back into the conversation, which had now turned from the sex jokes into a discussion of what they would be doing tomorrow.


	7. We All Break Our Children

Zayn would be a liar if he said he hadn’t worried about his friends meeting his real father. He had been terrified. What if they didn’t like each other? What if the others didn’t accept that Eric was just two years older than his son and found the whole thing weird? It turned out he had worried over nothing. Eric and the band got along perfectly, making Zayn beam like the sun when Niall casually dove into a tickle fight with the Swedish bloke. His father also was caught up in a loud discussion with Louis to why The Notebook was better than Titanic, and Zayn questioned both of their sexualities out loud, but jumped back into his conversation with Harry about ideas for new tattoos too fast to notice that both of them blushed.

The group of boys hung out for a few days, but even the best of times has to end. Soon the boys needed to get back to London to work on their album and do interviews, meet and greets and photo shoots. Eric needs to get back to his life in Sweden with the same type of work, just more small scale. The father and son had avoided talking about the departure, but they had decided they’d go together to London all six of them, Eric taking a flight from Heathrow and the boys going to their apartments. The time they spent together had been wonderful, and Zayn felt like a little hole in him, that had always been there, ever since his parents told him he was adopted, was mending. He had gotten a clue to who he really was, even though Eric felt more like an older brother at times, because of the age difference. He’d understood his love for music and why he had felt alone, and the happiness Zayn felt about recognizing features of Eric’s in himself, like his eyes for example. They had the same shade of dark brown irises, rimmed by dark lashes that all the boys’ sisters, along with about a million screaming fangirls, were jealous of. They had the same colour scheme, body type and smile, but that was as far as their similarities went. He guessed that the rest of him was more like his other father, and even though he had tried to push him out of his mind, he still thought about him, longing to know who he was, feeling guilty the moment Eric caught his gaze. He felt greedy for wanting to know his other father, now that his first one had finally turned up. Zayn had gone for thirteen years longing to meet Eric, now that he finally had gotten what he wanted, he moved on to wanting something else. And the thing he wanted now was impossible to even find without the help of Eric, who certainly had shown that he didn’t want to talk about Zayn’s other father, applying a pained and stressed expression on his face every time they even got close to the subject. This made Zayn feel even guiltier, since the topic was sensitive to Eric in a whole different way that it was for Zayn. For all Zayn knew, Eric could have been used, beaten, threatened and raped by some guy, and had been scarred for life of the events. The thought of this made Zayn feel disgusting, the child of a rapist, conceived from a horrible sin.

 

“You don’t know if that’s even true, Zayn.” Niall comforted his friend when the older boy had broken down after days of insecurity and told the blonde about his fears. “He’s never said that he was forced.”

“He never said that he wasn’t. What do we know?” Zayn was close to sobbing.

“We know the way he looks at you. The same way Trisha does. Like he loves you and isn’t scared of any painful memories when seeing your face. Like he’s extremely proud of you and what you’ve accomplished. Like you’re his son.” Niall smiled and Zayn’s heart warmed.

“So why haven’t he told me who my other dad is?”

“Maybe he doesn’t know. Maybe it was a one-time-thing and he didn’t know his name or how to find him again?” Zayn had to admit that that sounded reasonable, but also a bit sad. He had really hoped to get to know both of his birth parents.

“But I have the right to know who my parents are…” He trailed off, staring into the distance. Niall looked at him with compassion. After a few minutes of silence he spoke up, knowing that this was the only solution.

“Ask him. At least you’ll get an answer and not have to go around and not be sure.”

 

\-----

 

Zayn found Eric in the guest room, packing his bag and humming to what Zayn made out to be What Makes You Beautiful, and he smiled at how his father sang along to a One Direction song. Since he didn’t want to interrupt his father’s singing, and because he wanted to postpone a possible argument, Zayn leaned into the doorframe, watching Eric switch from humming to singing, adding dance moves and thinking he was alone until he made a twirl and saw his son.

“Hey, Zayn, didn’t see you there.” He probably felt embarrassed at being discovered dancing and singing to himself, but he didn’t show it. “I was, um, just packing up for my return and I got a bit carried away. It’s a great song!” He excused himself and Zayn chuckled.

“Thanks. Even though it’s a bit overplayed on the radio soon.”

“It was just released and it was only your first single! You’ll have loads of other hit songs in the future so just get ready for more overplayed records!” They both laughed and Zayn felt his heart warm at the faith his dad had in him and his friends, this made him also mentally curse himself for bringing up a topic Eric had made clear he didn’t enjoy talking about.

“Ehm, dad? There’s something I need to ask you.” Eric looked up at him. “I wanna know who my other dad is.” Eric’s gaze fell back to the floor.

“I can’t tell you that.” His voice sounded smaller that it had before, but Zayn was getting annoyed at his father and his lack of answers.

“Why not? Because you don’t know who it was? Because it was some random guy at a club whose name you didn’t know? Because you were forced by some jerk and he threatened that if you’d ever tell anyone he’d kill you? Because you don’t know who it was because you were a slut and let too many guys fuck you? Why the fuck can’t you tell me?” Zayn’s voice had gradually raised and hardened as he spoke, leaving the last two sentences as shouts. Eric shook his head and looked back at his son, who was fuming, even though he knew every word he uttered broke Eric’s heart.

“It was none of those, Zayn. I swear.”

“Really? Because all of those were reasons I would have understood and accepted. Why can’t you tell me?” Eric looked devastated and Zayn could understand why, and even felt a hint of compassion for him, and a part of Zayn was angry with himself for bringing it up and making Eric feel bad. But Zayn couldn’t stop once he’d started, no matter how much he wanted to.

“It’s complicated, Zayn. I know who it is, but I can’t tell you.”

“I have the right to know. It’s my legal right to kno-“ But he was cut off by a now equally pissed off Eric.

“I went from the year 2011 to give birth to you 1993. Do you even think there are laws covering situations like this? So no. Your legal right does not say you have the right to know him.”

 

Downstairs Niall and Harry were packing food for the trip to London from Bradford, and they caught each other’s eye when they heard the ruckus the father and son were making. Everyone else had left. Trisha and Yaser were both at work, Zayn’s sisters were all at school, Liam had gone out to get some quiet place to talk to Danielle and Louis were as the gas station to fill up the tank in the car. Niall felt a pang of guilt at the argument upstairs. He had told Zayn to ask Eric about his other father just a few minutes earlier, and now here they were, throwing hurtful words at each other.

“Let’s pretend we can’t hear it, okay?” Harry said as he put a slice of cheese on the sandwich he was making. “Bring those drinks from the top shelf.” He continued and nodded at the refrigerator, acting like nothing happened.

“So I was conceived this year? Thank you for finally giving me some clue of when I should have been born! And I have every right to know who he is!” The boys in the kitchen could pretend all they wanted that they didn’t hear what Zayn were shouting at his father, but they did hear, and it was awkward and horrible to hear other people’s very private fights.

“No, Zayn. You don’t. He and I are not your parents anymore.” Niall grasped and turned to look at Harry, who looked equally shocked, despite whatever he had been showing off earlier.

“Then leave.” Zayn’s voice was almost inaudible, muffled through the floor, but as the whole house seemed to have frozen, the involuntary listeners could hear every syllable. A few seconds later they heard footsteps coming down the stairs and the front door slam shut. The two youngest members of One Direction looked at each other in shock with wide open eyes. None of them could believe what just had happened. A few minutes later they heard a second set of footsteps and Zayn appeared in the door frame, red rimmed eyes and a thick voice.

“Eric’s not joining us on the ride back to London.”


	8. Walking Away

Finding the refugee in a London hotel, Eric finally allowed himself to cry. Guilt and anger at himself was driving him insane. His insides were burning over the hurtful words he’d said to his son. He hadn’t meant it. Of course he was still Zayn’s father, and so was Danny. But he really couldn’t tell Zayn that Danny was the father, because then he would want to meet him, and then Danny would have to find out and the night that they’d both forgotten would have to be discussed. Eric didn’t want to discuss that night, it had been awkward enough the first time they met after it had happened.

\------

It was two days after the final. Eric was going to the morning radio show on Rix FM to talk about his win. When he entered the studio, still limping slightly from the pain he still felt from losing his anal virginity, he found Danny already sitting there. Quickly he straightened up, doing everything in his power not to look like he had a sore bum.

“Welcome Eric!” One of the hosts said, Eric recognized his voice as Roger, but he only looked at Danny, who seemed extremely interested in his nails. “Oh, I hope there’s no rivalry between the two of you. No hard feelings?” There had been hard feelings alright. But that was two days ago. Now it was Monday and all traces of Saturday night had been washed away with hot water and loads of soap.

“No, what are you talking about? Of course there are no hard feelings!” Danny responded before Eric would say the same thing. “Eric’s performance was more of what the public wanted, and he won fair and square. Why would I be angry over the population stating their opinion?” It didn’t even sound rehearsed. The blonde man seemed to be completely serious. Eric smiled at this and took a seat next to him, pushing back a cringe when his bum touched the chair.

“Thanks man, your performance was awesome too. If I had a phone with me I would have voted for you.” Danny chuckled and smiled back at him, blue eyes bright, even though it was early in the morning.

“I would have voted for you too.” Eric felt something stir in his stomach when he looked Danny in the eyes, and the three co-hosts all laughed at their sense of good sportsmanship.

“So you two are friends?” Titti, the female host said and they both nodded.

“Yeah, we’ve been friends for years. Why would we stop that over a competition?” Eric answered and Danny cut in.

“Exactly. Saturday’s events can’t destroy our friendship.” A serious look in his friend’s eyes told Eric that he wasn’t talking about the contest. He was clearly indicating what had happened after, and Eric nodded slowly, showing that they had a mutual understanding. Danny continued talking as if nothing happened and the host didn’t notice the change in tension in the room. “Melodifestivalen is just a game and we have to remember that. The most awesome game and the most fun one to be in, true. But nothing more than a game.”

Roger announced that it was time for a commercial break, after which Danny would have left and the interview would be with only Eric. Danny hugged Titti, Roger and Hjert goodbye while Eric awkwardly stood there and wondered whether he would get a hug too or not. Was it too much touching, after they had shared a night with hot kisses on burning skin and blissful moans in their ears? But they had both just said that they were good friends, not hugging would be weird and people would think that their friendship was faked. Danny seemed to come to the same conclusion as he gave Eric a genuine smile and pulled his body close. So close to Danny’s neck, Eric could clearly see the hickey his own mouth had created and he blushed. How many others had seen it and how had Danny explained it when asked? The smell of Danny filled his nostrils and his knees felt a little weak. But the hug ended as quickly as it started as Danny let him go and told him to give him a call about going to the gym sometime that week which Eric agreed to and they waved goodbye as Danny walked out the door, leaving Eric to discuss the future and his plans for Eurovision with the three hosts.

 

\------

That had been the only time the night had been mentioned. The two men kept their friendship going the way they had done before. No awkward moments because of thoughts about how they knew what the other looked like when they orgasm and how they made out in the middle of a club for the whole world to see. They had lunches together, went to a movie premier with a bunch of other friends, hung out at each other’s apartments and challenged each other to various video games. Eric was happy that their friendship was not ruined, and realized how grateful he was to have a friend like Danny. Fun, relaxed, kind and they both had the same taste in music and movies and a shared love for working out. But then came the morning sickness and when he’d gotten over the initial chock of getting pregnant, Eric took off to the past and spent nine months with the adoptive parents of his baby. Zayn. His son. Eric banged his head into the carpeted floor. His son. Zayn was most certainly son, but he’d pushed him away. A hole in Eric’s chest started to form. An invisible hand squeezed his throat and it was hard to breathe. Regret ripped his head open like a bag of crisps and pain stung him everywhere like a billion needles piercing his skin. The hollowness in his heart reminded him of when he’d just gotten back to his own time and tried to deal with the fact that his son would grow up without him there. He’d almost wanted to go back to the past and live there, bringing Zayn up and be a proper part of his life, but when he’d turned around to go back into the police box it was gone. And it was probably for the best. Yaser and Trisha were wonderful people, and they had the means to actually raise a child, jobs, a home and each other. What did Eric have back there? No citizenship, no money, no job, no place to live. Only a son, who needed all the things Eric couldn’t give him. And what would his own parents say if he just left? Sure, he could go see them in 1993, where they raised the three year old Eric Saade, but then he’d have to explain it all to them. The time travel, the baby, the fame, Danny. It was all too much and Eric wasn’t ready to tell them. He was barely ready to even ponder over it himself. Because in his nine months of absence from his best friend he’d realized something. It had scared him at first, and he’d shaken it off as a domestic thing because he was the father of his child, but Eric was in love with Danny. So much in love he could not stop. It pained him and tore his heart apart, especially now when Zayn was back in the picture.

It was all too much. Danny and Zayn and Molly on top of it all, even though he’d broken up with her as soon as he’d come back. It wasn’t fair to her when he loved someone else, she was a great girl, and he cared about her, she was his best friend part from Danny. Eric thinks she understood Danny was the “someone else”, but she’s not said anything or asked about it. Maybe it was too hard for her to handle as well, dating a guy who’s suddenly gay. It probably scarred her confidence, even though she’d done nothing wrong and Eric had repeatedly told her so during their break-up-talk, but it must still sting. She hadn’t talked to him for four weeks and Eric had not tried to make contact either. Danny had asked why they’d broken up and Eric had just said “We simply grew apart”, and although Danny didn’t seem to believe that was the full story, he didn’t ask more, probably too scared that Eric had broken up with Molly because of him. Eric knew that Danny wasn’t gay and to be the love interest of your best friend has got to be hard when you’re not feeling the same, and the situation they’d been in just made it weirder.

The room was too quiet, not even the ticking of a clock, and maybe that was what Eric needed, silence. But the room was too light, he needed darkness to match with the silence and he wanted to wallow in self-pity. He knew he didn’t deserve pity, but he was so far gone he didn’t care. Standing up from his spot on the floor, knees aching a bit from having been bent, he dragged himself over to the light switch on the wall and made the room black. An uneven, shaky breath escaped his lips and he fumbled in the dark to find the bed, hitting it with his knees and falling over, spreading his aching body over the bed sheets.

He was a terrible human being and he didn’t deserve Zayn as his son anyways. Neither did he deserve Danny’s love, which was unreachable so why even try? His friendship was all he was going to work for, putting a lid on his feelings towards him.

And Zayn… Eric sighed. Zayn was better off without him. That is why he didn’t try calling, and didn’t give him his new number when he changed phones a few weeks later.

He walked out on Zayn’s life, never to come back.


	9. Lies We Tell And Secrets We Keep

No tweets, no Instagram posts, no answer on the texts and phone calls Danny sends him.

Eric had practically fell off the surface of the world. Not even Eric’s parents know where he is, all they say is that he is on a holiday and they can’t reach him either.

First Danny thinks it’s drugs. That’s what always happens to people in their business. Eric is on drugs and has gone to rehab to clean up. He nervously runs his hands over his face, digging his nails into the hairline. How could he not have seen it earlier? Eric had been acting strange for weeks. He was nervous and distracted from what went on around him. But, no. That could not be right. He hadn’t lost weight. The both of them had gone to the gym together and Eric’s muscles remained as defined as ever – not that Danny was looking, it was more of an observation. He had the same appetite and could still eat a cheeseburger and steal Danny’s chips on top of the plus menu he’d ordered. Danny had seen the effect of drugs on other people around him and Eric showed none of the signs. Something else was going on. Was he sick? Cancer sometimes didn’t show any signs, did it? Danny didn’t really know. In any case, he was worried, and had yelled out in happiness, scaring the other customers shopping for milk, when his friend finally texted him back, asking him if they should meet up the next day. The reply had been misspelled because of his urgency to say that yes of course they should, because he’d missed him and had been scared that something bad might have happened to him. Resisting the urge to jump around in the supermarket over a text from Eric Saade, something people would find strange and would draw more attention to the fact that he’d been missing in the first place, he instead grabbed the carton of milk he’d been reaching for when his phone had beeped, put it in his trolley and headed over to the aisle containing pasta, a smile on his face and humming to a song that sounded awfully much like this years winner of Melodifestivalen.

 

\------

 

“Phew! That was a good work out!” Eric nodded in agreement. Four hours of their Saturday morning had been spent at the gym, running, lifting weights, a small break talking to their personal trainer, more weights and exercises, finished off by fifteen minutes of stretching, to make sure their muscles wouldn’t act up. “I can’t wait to take a shower. I think I’m melting away!” Danny chuckled at his own joke, and he heard Eric do the same, and smiled wider. He had missed working out with Eric. His presence made him push himself harder, to go that extra mile. It wasn’t like they were competing though. They never competed except at FIFA, which Eric beat him at every time, so it wasn’t really a competition, more of a humiliation. It was just the feeling of having someone watching you who knew you could do better, so you felt obligated to do your very best to prove them right. Danny was better motivated when he had Eric running next to him, talking about some stupid person on a tv-show he’d seen the day before, or criticizing the way his manager wanted his career to turn.

“I could eat a horse. Let’s go to McDonald’s after this, yeah?” Danny turned to Eric as they entered the changing room.

“Sure.” Was Eric’s short answer, probably a bit tired from the amount of step-ups their PT had made him do. They usually went to McDonald’s after the gym on Saturdays, as a little revolution against their sometimes dictatorial personal trainer. And it wasn’t like they had fast food after every gym session. Just once a week, and the rest of the time they both ate very healthy, lost of fruit and vegetables. But Saturdays was for celebration and it was a double celebration because Eric was back this week and even though he’d never tell Eric the whole truth, Danny was very, very happy about that. Shredding his clothes onto the bench by his locker, he couldn’t help but steal a glance at Eric’s body, to see if he’d changed anything since before he left, and if his appearance could give him any clues to where he’d been.

To his disappointment nothing could be said except that Eric probably hadn’t been anywhere warm and sunny, because he still sported the fading summer tan from a few months ago. He had the same muscles in the same places, no bruises or marks on arms from drug usage (which of course also soothed Danny a lot. Nothing could be more awful than Eric addicted to things that destroyed him), no hickeys from a secret lover, no wounds from fights with tigers or lions or bears or whatever he could have faced on his get away. Nothing strange but a constant feeling of melancholy radiating from his aura. Danny wondered where it came from and how he could help Eric get rid of it.

 

 

“I can’t believe he keeps trailing after her. It is obvious that she doesn’t care about him.” Danny said as he and Eric entered the fast food restaurant. “I’ve told him a million times. He never listens to me.”

“Maybe you should try and talk to her about it. Tell her to cut the chord, or something.” Eric answered. “I mean, I’ve seen the way he acts around her. He’s in love. You can’t blame him for having hope.” Danny nodded at this but pitched in more information.

“Of course not. And it’s sweet. It really is. But she’s being a bitch and keeps insinuating that something will happen between them when it is obvious to the rest of us that it won’t.” Danny placed his order. A BigMac menu with Fanta, what he always had. “Not to mention how Linda is taking it.” Eric turned from the cashier as she fetched his cheeseburger and asked for twenty kronor.

“What? Linda? What about her?” Eric fumbled with his wallet and pulled out a five hundred kronor note which he handed over to the cashier who asked him if he had any smaller note because she was running low on cash in the register. Danny watched as Eric instead dug out three five kronor and five one kronor coins which the girl thanked him for, but instead of putting the valuable note back in his wallet, Eric folded it up and put it in the moneybox for Ronald McDonald House. “Danny. What about Linda?” Eric asked him and Danny realised he had stopped his story about the triangle drama their friends were involved in.

“Oh, she likes Mattias, and I think he sort of likes her too, but since he’s completely in love with Rebecka and doesn’t want to let her go, in case she changes her mind.” Danny continued as they took their trays and sat down at a table. “But she’s just toying with him, and I think that is really cruel of her, she’s not only hurting Mattias, but Linda too, and Rebecka and Linda are supposed to be best friends.” Eric nodded slowly in understanding, opening the wrapping paper on his burger.

“You should talk to her. Tell her it’s not okay to treat people the way she does.” He said, slowly sipping his small cup of coke.

“I know.” Danny nodded as he swallowed his third bite of his meal. “She just wants him to be in love with her so she can feel special and admired. She needs attention.” He scooted his tray with chips closer to Eric, but unlike all other times they ever go to this place, he doesn’t reach for them with a mischievous glance in his eyes. He just sits there and barely eats his own food. “Hey, man. You okay?” Danny asked his friend, dropping the conversation about Rebecka the attention seeking bitch and finally hopping into the one he’d wanted to have ever since a few days ago when Eric showed up on his doorstep for their first encounter in two weeks. Ever since Eric came back from his mysterious trip he’d not been himself. He didn’t smile, and if he did, the smile never reached his eyes. His laugh sounded forced and nothing seemed to excite him anymore. Something must have happened to make him like this. What if something was wrong with his family? Maybe he had gotten bad news. He still had some family living in Lebanon, and Danny hadn’t really watched the news, but a suicide bombing or something could have happened. Maybe Eric’s cousins or grandparents had been hurt? Eric pretended as if nothing was wrong, like he had for a few days now.

“I’m fine. How about you?” Eric said in an annoyed tone. He really didn’t want Danny to ask. He didn’t want anyone to ask. None could know about his trip to England and his meeting with Zayn. Danny gave him a flat look.

“Eric. I can tell you’re not okay, you’re not eating and you don’t have the same cheery mood you usually do after working out. Is everything right with your family?” Eric flinched. No. Everything was not okay with his family. His son was devastated over being rejected by him. His own parents had no idea they were grandparents and Zayn’s other father had no clue about any of it. But he couldn’t tell Danny that. He took Danny’s shoulder and tried to not feel anything when he looked into his eyes.

“Everything is fine. Really. I’m just coming down with a cold or something.” Eric blessed himself and thought to himself if he should pick up an acting career on top of the singing. He was good at lying. Danny nodded and looked away.

“Okay, sorry, man. You’ve just been different lately. I was a bit worried.”

“No need to worry about me. I’m fine, Danny.” Eric lied through his teeth. He needed to convince Danny or else he would be all over his case and eventually find out the truth. “I heard Segersprätt and the others were planning on going out tonight. Why don’t we tag along, yeah?” That would convince him, wouldn’t it?

“Yeah, awesome! Haven’t seen you in the club for a long time. I’ll text them and say we can meet up at my place before. I have the new FIFA.” Danny wiggled his eyebrows at Eric who rolled his eyes.

“We both know I’m gonna win that game.” The two men both laughed together, but on the inside, Eric was crying.

 

\------

 

Lights were blinking, the base thumping, bodies moving, worries forgotten. Well, to everyone in the club but Eric. His throat was thick with worry. It was the same club, the same group, the same cheery mood. Danny came up and threw an arm over his shoulders, just like last time. Eric felt the oxygen leave his lungs as they instead were filled with the air from _him_.

“Here you are, man! I thought I lost you!” He had to shout, the music was so loud. Eric just shook his head and gave a small, nervous smile. His brain was running low on air.

“Nah, I’ve been here the whole time.” He had to repeat his words, because Danny didn’t hear him the first time, the chords drowning his breathless words. The second time he spoke, Danny’s face showed surprise.

“The whole time?” Eric nodded. “No dancing at all?” Eric shook his head and stiffened a bit. It was the dancing that had put him in this position in the first place. “Come on! You’ve gotta loosen up!” Danny tried to pull Eric with him into the pulsing crowd, but the younger man wriggled out of his grip and excused himself before starting his way out of the club. Stars clouded his vision and his body felt heavier than usual. He had to get out fast. Stumbling between glittery women, men with beers and past a kissing couple, he finally reached the fresh oxygen in the cold night. Danny’s air escaped his lungs, and was replaced by calming coolness.

It was too much to handle. He couldn’t do it. He couldn’t relive that night. Once had been enough, and even though it might have been the best sex of his life, it couldn’t happen again. Not that it would, Danny was not as drunk as he’d been after Melodifestivalen, and Eric knew how to say no this time. But the nagging feeling of desire after Danny’s body wrapped around him, Danny’s breath tickling his neck, Danny’s strong hands pushing his legs apart, Danny’s moans of his name as they moved together, Danny’s cock inside him, Danny.

But those thoughts were not allowed. Danny didn’t love him. Danny didn’t need him. Danny didn’t know about their son, who Eric had hurt so deeply it had hurt himself.


	10. The Stars Are Clouded When It Rains

Five missed calls. One from Erik, one from Mattias and three from Danny.

Twenty unread messages.

Three from Erik:

_hey, where’d you go off to?_

_are you okay? you just left._

_tried calling you, no answer, is everything okay?_

Two from Mattias:

_where are you? we’re looking for you._

_we’ve all tried calling you but you don’t answer. please just text one of us back so Danny knows you’re alright. he’s worried._

And finally, the fifteen messages from Danny, increasingly worried to the point of desperation:

_where are you?_

_did i say something? please just text me back._

_i’m sorry if i did something._

_ok seriously eric, please text me back._

_eric the club is closing where are you? i’ve asked the bouncer and he said he saw you leave on your own. please text me back so i know you’re okay_

_okay dude you know the rule, you always text the minute you get home so we know you got home okay_

_i’m sorry if you’re with a chick, and i keep interrupting with my texts_

_no, i am not sorry at all. i can’t believe you don’t spare me one second of your sexytime to tell me you’re fine_

_ok i’m sorry i know you’d have texted me back by now if you where fine_

_please please please text me or even better call me back i’m really worried that you got mugged and raped and beaten and killed and i can’t bear that thought please get in touch with me_

_ok i am at the point of calling the police, please answer_

_i called the police but they said i couldn’t file you as a missing person until it’s gone 24 hours or if i had evidence of you being in trouble which i haven’t and i didn’t want to bring attention to you being missing because i know you wouldn’t want to cause a teenage riot. please answer_

_i’m sorry, whatever i did to make you leave. and i know you didn’t really want to go out with us, and you’ve been acting different ever since you got back from wherever you went for those two weeks. you’ve been sad and i just wanted to try and cheer you up. please text me back._

_sorry for sounding soppy and girly, just text me back please._

Eric’s heart felt warm and ached at the same time. Warm at knowing Danny honestly cared for him and got worried about him, and at Mattias obviously seeing it too. But it ached his heart at the same time for the pain and trouble he had caused for his friends. Why did he have to mess everything up? Could he do nothing right in this world? Quickly he typed out a short message saying his phone died and he had fallen asleep the minute he got home from exhaustion and too much alcohol to Erik and Mattias. Danny got his own message.

_i’m sorry i couldn’t answer. i ran out of the club because i felt sick. i then went home and fell right asleep, not even stopping to put my dead phone in the charger. didn’t see the messages until i woke up this morning. i was fine, i swear. i really appreciate that you didn’t cause a teenage riot. i also appreciated that you didn’t cause one when i was away those weeks. you’re my best friend in the world for a reason._

He didn’t add an “I love you" to the text, no promise of telling what had happened to make him sad, or how he had felt reminded of the night they had sex and got a son whom Eric had pushed away. He would tell Danny about it one day, probably, maybe, but most likely not.

The story was not far away from the truth. The powerless phone was a lie, and so was the walk straight back to his apartment. He had turned it off at the first text from Danny, as he walked from the club, aimlessly just wanting to get as far away from it as fast as possible. He’d arrived at a park, in which he’d fallen to the ground, his clothes turning damp from the wet grass he landed on. A full hour he had laid there, staring at the dark sky which showed no stars. They were hiding behind clouds. As the raindrops started falling on his face he got up and walked home, stripping his wet clothes when he got inside the door and cuddling up alone under the covers of his bed. Hugging his own legs, curled up in a ball he felt small and hoped that nothing could touch him, and that all worries would become as tiny as him.

 

\------

 

 

The Sunday was spent playing video games on his own, texting a bit with Mattias about a girl he’d met the previous night and needed advice on how to talk to. Eric didn’t really see himself as a good consultant on the matter, but tried to help out nevertheless. He had gotten a reply from Danny instantly.

_Eric, thank God! I have been so worried about you. Thank you for texting me back._

Danny had let out a breath of relief as his phone had beeped showing a message from Manboy. He hadn’t slept all night, wondering what had been wrong with his best friend. Eric had been acting awkward and not wanted to let loose. Usually he was really into partying, dancing like a little squirrel on Ecstacy and laughing at everything. Something was obviously bothering him, and Danny could swear it had something to do with his mysterious absence. It hurt him that Eric would lie and pretend everything was okay and not dare to tell Danny what was wrong. They talked about everything. Well, nearly everything. They never mentioned the time after Melodifestivalen when they had slept togeth- Oh. No wonder Eric had ran away and not wanted to tell him why. Danny suddenly felt very guilty and awkward. Even though that was more than half a year ago, he still sometimes thought back on it and felt himself get hard at the memory of Eric panting and whining under him, begging him to go further. Every time he quickly shook his head, trying to push those images out of his head. Eric was his friend, based on the mutual silent agreement to never bring that up again. It was not okay to think about how much he had enjoyed it. But despite his attempts, he sometimes while wanking found himself picturing short black hair and a boob-less toned chest, feeling guilty as he ran his hand faster over his cock, getting off at the intense fantasies, coming over his own hand, cheeks pink from excitement and embarrassment. He could never tell anyone about that. Eric didn’t text back, Danny assumed that he was equally embarrassed. They didn’t speak for a couple days, but that was normal.

 

\------

 

As Eric came into the office that Monday morning, he had completely forgotten about his worries from Saturday evening. His publicity team greeted him as he entered with a smile on his face. It was fanmail day. One of his favourite days of the month. He loved reading letters from people who loved him - as narcissistic as that might sound. He felt appreciated and happy that people liked what he was doing. It was a huge confidence boost, and he always read every single letter himself, never letting anyone else do it.

"Morning, Eric. The box is in your room, ready for opening." Helena or Lena for short, the woman in charge of his fanmail smiled at him, knowing what he wanted to do. “Can I get you a cup of coffee?"

"No, that’s fine, thanks, Lena. I had a cup before I got here. Thanks though." He smiled back and headed for his own room, grinning at the cardboard box in the middle of the floor. It was filled with letters, drawings and little presents, all from his wonderful fans. Cracking his knuckles, he dove right in and started reading. A drawing of him performing and Rix FM festival in Karlskrona, a letter from a girl who wanted to marry him, a picture of a FIFA-game with his face on one of the players, a few more proposals, a cute story of how a four year old had refused to take his Eric Saade-shirt off for a week, a couple more drawings of him performing and then there it was.

_Hey Eric, it’s Niall._

When Eric had seen the title he had not believed his eyes. Fanmail. He was so wonderfully grateful to Niall for trying to get hold of him in the most discreet way possible, with the least certainty of success. Niall was in One Direction. Niall could easily have called his management team, having them look up Eric’s management team in order to get in touch with him. But he had sent his plea on fanmail. He knew how big of a secret Eric and Zayn’s relationship was and tried to keep it that way by writing to an address he knew would take a long time and maybe not even reach the intended person. Eric silently thanked the Irishman and braced himself for what was coming. It could not be good.

 

 

_You need to come back to London. Zayn is broken. He is sad and refuses to speak to even Louis about it. We all know that it was because of what you told him. I’m sorry, but Harry and I overheard the argument. We weren’t eavesdropping, honest! You were both shouting pretty loud. I know you didn’t mean to say what you did and I know you love Zayn very much. I have no idea why you don’t come back to him. Aren’t family supposed to stick together? It makes the rest of us sad as well to see him like this. He hardly eats and sleeps. Please, Eric. I beg of you to come back and make this right._

What Niall had written was all true. But he couldn’t go back like this. He had to make his words undone in the first place. He needed to go back in time again. That would fix it all. Zayn wouldn’t have to endure the pain he’d been feeling now and Eric would have his son back. Everything would be great and everyone would be happy.


	11. Pleas For Help

Finding The Doctor isn't easy. Usually it is he Doctor who finds you. It is what he does. A person like that is so mysterious, intriguing. Many people are fascinated by him and his life style. Eric is just annoyed. How do you find a man who travels in time and space like a leaf travels in the wind? Eric only had one lead. Did he still have the phone number? He scrolled through his contacts. Of course not. Clicking the home button in annoyance he scowled. He should have. Nothing ever worked out as he had planned so why would this? His thumb pressed the compass icon harder than necessary and tapped his foot impatiently on the ground. Typing "eniro" into the search field, he started biting the nails on his left hand. The dark haired man swore as he bit off a bit too much of his thumbnail and a bit of the skin from his nail beds was torn off as well. The page had loaded and he pressed the keys to spell out "Anders Höglund Stockholm" before pressing the return key, sucking the blood off his destroyed left thumbnail.

Sixteen hits. Great. He couldn't call them all. Could he? Yes, he could. So he pressed the first number and found his phone dialling.

 

The fifth number he tried was the right one. Anders asked him how he was doing and if his child was doing alright and Eric answered that, yes, he was physically doing great, but he had a row with his son, yes, it was a son, he lived in England and was doing great, he was so talented, such a good singer, such great family, such great friends, but they had fallen out over revealing who the other father was, no, he still hadn't told the other dad, they were still friends but Eric found it hard to talk to him about it, he had broken up with Molly and yes, Anders had heard about that, the whole country had heard about that, did she know the truth, no she didn't, but Anders agreed it was best to not hurt her, but Eric really should tell the other father, whoever it was because the son and Eric had fought over it and dropped their contact completely and Anders really thought that they should meet all three because the son deserved to know both his biological parents, Eric said that yes, he understood that but he was scared and he had been so mean to Zayn, yes the son was called Zayn, and he needed to get hold of The Doctor so he could help him make it undone because he was regretting every foul word and Zayn's friend Niall had sent a letter by fanmail asking him to come back to London because Zayn was so sad and Eric really needed to make him happy and he needed The Doctor for that and would Anders help him, of course he would, just take care of yourself Eric, and yes he would but Zayn was more important, and thank you for everything, and it really wasn't any bother, he'd see if The Doctor could see him this week, he was rather unpredictable but he'd try his best, and good luck with everything and then they said their goodbyes, promising to take care of themselves.

 

 

"Take me back. Please!" Eric begged the man. "I said such horrible things to him. I need to take them back. Please, let me go back!" The Doctor shook his head.  
"I can't. You'd be crossing your own timeline. It's impossible."   
"Please! He's my son! I can't stand it, seeing him like this." Tears started rolling down Eric's cheeks. "He's in pain. I'm in pain. If I could make it undone..."   
"Eric, I'm really sorry. But there is nothing I can do." The Doctor said firmly with a sad frown on his face. "I can't take you to a place where you already are. You'd cause a paradox that could make the entire universe collapse."

“I don’t care! I have to change it!” So what if the universe exploded or fell off the shell of that turtle or the apocalypse started early and zombies rose from the graves and fire fell from the sky? At least Eric would be dead and unable to feel the inhumane pain that was tearing him apart. The Doctor didn’t understand. He hadn’t hurt his closest family and most important person in his life. If The Doctor had children he’d know that rising oceans and knocking down mountains was the very least a parent could do for their child. Eric would be happy to risk the fate of the world, just to know Zayn was okay. Zayn wasn’t okay now. Zayn was sad and miserable. Zayn had been crushed into a million pieces like a crystal glass hitting the cold, hard cement floor. Zayn who was the best thing that ever happened to Eric. His own creation, his blood, his son. A hand on Eric’s shoulder stopped his thoughts.

“The only thing you can change is the future. Ask for forgiveness.” The Doctor gave him a sad smile that didn’t reach his eyes that radiated understanding and sadness. False understanding. The Doctor didn’t know how he felt.

“He’ll never accept it. I said I didn’t want anything to do with him. I told him I’m not his father!”

“And he’s your son. He loves you, and he’ll forgive you if you just give him a chance.”

“What do you know about that? Huh? Have you ever had children?” It surprised Eric when the man who didn’t look older than thirty nodded.

“I have. I know exactly how you feel, Eric. There is nothing you wouldn’t do to make him safe and happy. But this is a problem I can't help you solve. You have to do it on your own." The Doctor grabbed Eric's shoulder and squeezed it. "I'm so sorry, Eric. If I could help you, you know I would." Eric shrugged him off and took two steps back. The Doctor's face changed into a painful grimace. "Eric." He looked away. The spaceman wouldn't help him. His last resort, his cure for the pain had failed. Zayn would remain sad and lonely. Eric would remain in agony. The Doctor couldn't help. "Eric, look at me." No. He wouldn't. The Doctor was evil. He had a time machine. Time machines should be used to change things that went wrong in the past. Eric had done wrong. It needed to be fixed, and The Doctor wouldn't take him back. "Eric, please, look at me." A hand grabbing his chin pointing his eyes to the alien. "Talk to him. I can take you to him right now if you want. He'll forgive you." Eric didn't want to look into his eyes. "Hey." The Doctor's voice was soft. Their eyes met again and Eric immediately regretted his decision to look up. "He'll forgive you."

"Right. I'll try." Lies. Of course Eric wouldn't try. But The Doctor seemed to believe him because he smiled and embraced him in a bear hug.

"Great! I'd love to come with you, but you know, places to visit, people to meet, civilisations to rescue." The spaceman jumped off towards his strange blue box. Eric never did ask anything about it. "Goodbye Eric. I wish you the best of luck and all the happiness in the world. He will forgive you. Just have faith." Eric waved him off as he watched the box fade away with a loud "VWROOP VWROOP VWROOP" He picked up his phone and scrolled through his contacts. He scrolled past Danny, he scrolled past Mum, he scrolled past Niall, he scrolled past Dad, he pressed Taxi and called for a cab home. He didn't even reach the bottom of the list. Nowhere near the number to the only person he actually needed to talk to.

 

\------

 

The days went by, turned into weeks which in turn turned into a month. No word from Eric. Niall's letter must not have reached him. He started thinking about trying to get his number through management agencies and record companies, but so much explanation would be needed and that could be risky. Niall didn't even know whether anyone in their management knew Zayn was adopted. Best talk to Louis about it first. Louis would surely have noticed that Zayn was sad. Louis always noticed when the others were sad. In a way Louis was their mother, well, maybe not to Harry, but that was a whole other story. Louis took care of them and never asked for anything in return.

 

Louis had noticed. So had Harry and Liam. Niall had asked them all separately and they had all agreed that they needed to gather and talk about it before talking to Zayn or trying to get to Eric and talk to him. They all sat in Niall's couches. Harry's head rested on Louis' shoulder and Louis' arm rested around Harry's waist. Outside London was showing off the reason people complained over British November weather.

"We need to get hold of Eric. Eric said some horrible things to Zayn." Liam said from the couch next to theirs. "We need to talk to him about that."

"Eric didn't mean those things though. It was clear that he didn't. Eric says things without thinking, you've all noticed that." Niall defended the Swedish man and Harry nodded.

"I've noticed." He said.

"I know, Haz, but still. There might be some sort of truth in what he said. He gave Zayn up for a reason. Maybe he don't want to have kids. Most guys at twenty-one don't." Louis words made Harry frown.

"Has anyone talked to Eric at all since he left? Do we know anything about how he's doing?" Liam asked everyone and Niall answered,

"I tried calling him but he seemed to have changed his number the way we do sometimes, so I sent him a letter to his fanmail address. I didn't want to involve Modest! in this in case they don't know Zayn's adopted. He hasn't answered so I think he either didn't get it or he ignored me. Should I try again or should we talk to Zayn first?"

"I've tried talking to Zayn, he just brushes it off and pretends to be fine. I can see he's not, and I said so but he got angry with me so I dropped it." Louis said. Like Niall thought. Of course Louis had tried helping. Harry shuffled closer to him and Louis squeezed his waist.

"So what do we do?" Liam wondered. The others thought hard about it. They needed to help their friend, but how would they do it?


End file.
